A Modernly Phantastic Halloween
by DonJuana19
Summary: Christine and her friends from dance are finally allowed into one of the most frightening attractions in town... the Gardener Family Haunted Barn. Inside she's faced with a few ghastly monsters... including one she won't soon forget.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note****: Hey guys! Ok, so if you consider this one of the weirdest phanphics you've ever read, I wouldn't be surprised. But here's the rundown of how I came to write it:**

**1. I went to a haunted house with a few of my gal pals, and was reflecting my Christine in the way that I was not scared even though I thought I'd be. (I also sang Christmas carols to make my friends feel better and yes… Tomorrow. XD )**

**2. I've released a Modern Miz fic, but not a Phantom one. BLASPHEMY! ;P**

**3. I was in a Halloweeny mood. And thus, THE GARDENER FAMILY HAUNTED BARN WAS BORN! Enjoy, my lovelies! **

"Christine, come on!" Meg squealed, grabbing my hand and tugging me along. I giggled. My dear friends and I were about to enter one of our town's most exciting annual events: the Gardener Family Haunted Barn.

The Gardener's set it up every year around Halloween, and it was so horribly frightening that you had to wait until you were sixteen to even get in. The barn was huge, the building itself left over from an ancient dairy factory or something, and as a result the whole trip around once inside took about a half hour. The lines were always huge, the waits always time consuming, but everyone in town said it was more than worth it.

We'd all turned sixteen a few months before, aside from our friend Alex, who was the tallest out of us anyway and looked more eighteen than fifteen. So of course that meant that it was finally our turn to experience the horrors that made up this rickety old barn. We'd been waiting for five years, vowing to go as soon as we saw a poster for the grand opening of this chilling attraction in our ballet studio. Mrs. Giry, our instructor and mother of Meg, had laughed when we'd excitedly told her of our pledge, saying a few soft little ballerinas like us would never be able to handle terror of that magnitude. But, being the fiery little divas we were, that only made us even more determined to go when it came our time. And now, here we were, standing in the seemingly endless line; all wrapped up in our knit, woolen hats, fingerless gloves, and fleece coats.

I watched my even breath cloud through the bitingly cold air, while Meg, Jamie, and a few of the other girls were hyperventilating like steam engines, caught up in the sheer excitement. "Oh God, I don't know if I can do this." Jamie laughed nervously.

I patted her on the back. "It's ok J, it'll be fun! Just think about it; half the guys in there are ones we know, just in masks trying to freak us out. I'll betcha anything Joey Buchini is in there, you know how morbid and mischievous he is." I said, attempting to soothe her. We all rolled our eyes. Joey Buchini was the Giry's neighbor, and Mrs. Giry often hired him to come help us move sets for recitals, though all he did when he actually bothering showing up was cause trouble and check us out. He was absolutely obnoxious, and we could all see him working for the Haunted Barn.

As we neared the front of the line, Meg suddenly nudged me and said, "Oh my God. Who's that fine thing working the counter?" I followed her gaze amusedly, and my eyes widened. There, standing behind the counter collecting tickets, was my old next-door neighbor and childhood best friend, Randall. I felt my face growing hot, even though it was only about 40 degrees outside. _When did he get so… cute?_ I thought, trying not to stare. The other girls had noticed him too, and were now giggling incessantly, drawing his blue-eyed gaze to stare at us. I cursed them silently and looked down, hoping he hadn't seen me practically ogling him. As we stepped up to where he stood, he smiled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth, and said, "Good evening ladies, welcome to the Gardener Family Haunted Ba…" but then his voice trailed off, and I looked up to see him staring wide-eyed at _me_. I looked down again and blushed as he said, "Christine? Is that you?"

I smiled shyly back at him, saying, "Hey Randy."

"Wow, you look great! I haven't seen you in years!" he exclaimed, walking around to the front of the booth and catching me in an awkward hug. Over his shoulder, I saw the other girls standing with mouths agape with envy, and just for kicks, I winked at them. Meg bit back a smile and gave me a thumbs up. I pulled away then, grinning, "It's great to see you too. Wow, you're right! What's it been, like, six years since the move?"

He nodded, face brightening. "It's pretty crazy, huh?"

"Where'd those big thick glasses go? You still losing them after all this time?" I teased, surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, even though it had been years since we'd last met.

"Not quite; I got contacts _because _I kept losing them." He replied, laughing.

"Ah… learning from your mistakes, are you? You always were the smarter of the two of us." I giggled, looking up at him through my eyelashes like girls do in the movies.

"Are you kidding? Who was the one dumb enough to fall for it when you convinced me your scarf had fallen in the pond in the park before pushing me in when I got close enough?" he asked with a thundering laugh. It sounded so strong and masculine now… and yet also hadn't changed a bit.

"You remember that?" I inquired, surprised he had after all this time apart.

"Of course! I was sick as a dog after—"

Just then, a boy in a scarred clown mask stuck his head out of the entrance. "Yo Randall, quit flirting and send the next group in!"

I looked back at Randy, who was now… blushing? "Alright, I guess you guys should get going. But Christine, feel free to come back when you're done, I'd love to catch up," he told me, almost shyly. I nodded eagerly and waved goodbye, trailing behind my now very tightly grouped friends. They were all whispering, laughing, and shaking nervously, and I just shook my head smiling at their buzzing anxiety. But my thoughts were elsewhere. _Oh my God; did he really just ask you to come 'catch up'? What does that even mean? He seemed so excited to see you…_

Before we entered, Meg dropped back to stand next to me saying, "Ok, I don't know how you did it, but nice catch," with a wink. I laughed, humoring her, though I knew in the time he'd been gone Randy had probably met all kinds of new friends—all kinds of new _girls—_ and was just remembering me as the little girl I'd been. It had been a nice thought, his seeing me any other way, but I had to get real with myself; it wasn't likely.

Then, insisting I link arms with her, Meg and I headed into the pitch-black entrance of the barn. The second we stepped inside, we were met with a thump and the screams of the other girls. "Raaa!" a guy shouted as he popped out in front of us, wearing a bloody skeleton costume. I held back a laugh, for I could see that his bright red sweatshirt hood was sticking out from under the back of the mask. He disappeared back into the wall, and we inched forward.

After a few more steps, we heard a deafening scream, and something whizzed out from the ceiling, hanging inches in front of our faces. The other girls shrieked at the stuffed body, but I again smirked at the obvious (ok, maybe not so obvious, but I could certainly see them) flaws in the decoration. It was just too fat around the middle… and unnaturally short as well. I was about to brush it aside and walk right past when two arms shot out from it, just touching my shoulders. I gasped in surprise, then applauded. "Clever! I actually didn't see that one coming!" I said, and whoever was inside the "body" grumbled. Jamie was now on the verge of tears, for the arms had completely shocked her as well.

I looked around at the paled faces of my friends, putting my arms around any shoulders I could reach. "C'mon ladies, it's not that bad! Remember, it's just the guys from town, all dressed up in their costumes." They smiled hesitantly but gratefully at me and went back to their nervous laughter, reiterating quietly that none of it was real, and that this was all just part of the good ol' Halloween fun. But their eyes kept darting about like bees in a flower field, as if expecting that saying such things would cause another body to drop on top of them.

We continued walking through the dark maze of the barn; everything from zombies to lunatics crawling out from the darkest corners. At one point, a guy in an unzipped, bloody straight jacket grappled down from the ceiling and flew right into Meg's face, giving her a crazed smile and horrible scream before stealing her hat right off her head. She cried out and began to tremble, and to lighten the mood I screamed at the psycho's retreating figure, "Give it back right now or I'll sue!" and the hat came fluttering to the ground. I proudly picked it back up and handed it to Meg, who couldn't help but laugh.

I had to admit I was a bit surprised at this bold behavior; I was usually the type of girl who couldn't watch a horror movie without expecting a few sleepless nights to be the result. But tonight I stood there laughing at the cheesy effects, wittily commenting to save the sanity of my terrified friends. My fearlessness attracted the attention of most of the barn's ghouls, who seemed to make it the mission of the night to get a shriek out of me. But I wouldn't let up; for half of the guys I knew just by hearing the sound of their voice.

We'd been in the labyrinth of terrors for about least ten minutes when we were chased by a Scream phantom holding a plastic knife all the way to a solitary door at the end of the narrow hallway. We stopped when we approached it, not wanting to find out what was behind the closed door, but not wanting to go back to Scream either. My poor pals were on the verge of hysterics, gasping for breath, lungs burning from the running and screaming. "Oh God, oh God, oh God… I _really_ don't wanna go in there!" Jamie squeaked, staring teary eyed at the door.

"Now I see why it's sixteen plus!" Alex added, voice wavering. I hugged the two of them, saying, "Guys, it's not that bad. Just keep thinking…"

"Yeah, we know. That's what I've been doing, honest! But then I'll see the guy right in front of me and I'll think of whatever horror movie they came from," Meg shivered.

"Seriously Chris, how do you do it? You haven't screamed one time since we came in here," my combination partner Lisa asked, voice cracking. I shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure. I'm usually not the fearless type, but tonight, I don't know. It's just not getting to me."

They all stared at me with a slight look of admiration, then Jamie looked back at the door. "Inspiring as that was C, I still don't wanna open that door."

Then, as if in response to her comment, the revving of a chainsaw was heard, and the dear haunt of Friday the 13th stepped around the corner. One of the girls screamed out a cuss that would make her mother die of shock, and I suddenly felt myself being shoved through the door, which had instantly become much more appealing. Alex slammed the door behind us, and Jamie curled up on the floor, Meg crying next to her.

I rubbed Jamie's shoulder and helped her up off the ground, saying, "It's ok guys, it's ok. Hey, I know something that'll turn those frowns upside down!" I exclaimed, desperate to stop their rushing fear in its tracks. Then I began to sing, "The sun'll come out, tomorrow! Betcher bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun!" The girls burst out laughing, and I smiled in triumph, continuing at the top of my lungs to the chorus. "Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow! You're always a day away!" Meg started to join in, and the other girls continued to giggle; all apart from Lisa, who was staring over my shoulder, mouth open in a silent scream. After a moment, I noticed her petrified look, and followed her gaze. There, sitting at a large, expensive looking organ, was a boy.

His mask was utterly repulsive; red and raw with the papery skin peeling from it, and the whole thing looked as if it was about to drip right off his face and land in a pussy heap at his feet. It was the first thing I'd winced at the whole twenty minutes we'd been in the barn, and its pair of illuminated gold eyes stared right at me, guised in an expression of awe. When he found my eyes, he turned back to the organ, beginning to play "Tomorrow" in a minor key, giving it a different, eerie tone that sounded almost on the verge of threatening. The other girls screamed when they heard it, obviously feeling more intimidated than I had, making a run for the door on the opposite side of the room. Unfortunately for them, the door was right next to the organ, and they had to full on sprint to get there before the monster did.

I was the last one to exit, and as I ran to catch up with them he got up off the bench, reaching out to me. "_Wait…_" he whispered, his voice smooth and serene. I stopped in my tracks, practically enchanted by the sound of his voice. It was low and calm, and the quiet, lovely sound of it was almost like an amiable tickle in my ear. I was snapped out of my trance by Meg's violent yanking of my arm, yelling, "Christine, come on! Let's get out of here!"

I shook my head, trying to shake the sudden haziness that had taken over it. Ok, that was too weird. Had I just been hypnotized by that Burned Face guy's _voice_? I shuddered at the sudden vulnerability I'd fallen into, and for the first time since I'd entered the barn, I was genuinely scared. I ran as fast as Meg away from that room, away from that organ and that monster faced magician. As we hurried away, I thought I heard a heartbreakingly beautiful, "_Christine…"_

In the last stretch of the barn, we were met with a few other creeps, and at one point, we even headed to a room where strobe lights were flashing. Someone grabbed Alex around the middle, and she practically passed out then and there… until he whispered, "Hey baby," and she realized it was her boyfriend Lou. We teased her about it the whole way out of the strobe room, saying, "How could you not know your own boyfriend?" Though we knew that none of us would have in these shadowy rooms.

We then headed down another long hallway, following a glowing exit sign like moths. "Oh thank God!" Lisa said, and sprinted towards it. We all screamed at her to slow down, for we knew by then that it couldn't possibly be that easy. And of course, we were right. Freddy Kreuger came flying out of one of the panels in the walls, claws scraping against the walls. Lisa squealed and fell to the ground sobbing, where Mr. Kreuger decided to terrify her even more by towering over her. _What a jerk!_ I thought angrily, _He can obviously_ _see that she's gone over the edge, and yet he won't back off?_

Then, without thinking, I marched forward, positively enraged. "Ok, she's scarred for life. Are you happy now? Get the hell away from her!" I spat, shoving him away from Lisa's cowering body. The rest of the girls watched me in horror. Freddy let out a cackle… a cackle I immediately recognized as belonging to a certain useless stagehand. "Damn Chrissy, you always have been a feisty one, haven't you?" Joey chuckled sinisterly. I didn't answer him, just helped Lisa off the ground as the other girls came forward now as well, realizing that it was only Joey, irritated looks on their faces. As we passed him, they all said something like, "Nice Joey," or "This is how you have fun?" but just before I was about to leave, he caught me by the arm. "Ya know Chrissy, I like this new side of you. You were spitting fire back there, and it was totally hot."

I tried to yank my arm away. "I already told you Joey, quit calling me Chrissy. And let go of me!" I seethed through gritted teeth.

"No way, Missy Chrissy. You're hotter than ever right now, and how could I _possibly_ let you go cool down when you're so sexily fired up?" he asked. My eyes widened as he pulled me closer to him, placing his bladed hands on my hips. "How about a kiss for Freddy?" he hissed, reaching up to pull his mask off.

"In your dreams Buchini." I scoffed, continuing to try to break free.

He just chortled again, softly saying, "Now, now Chrissy… let's not be hasty. What if I happened to mention that these claws are real? Would that add any motivation?"

I was about to shut down his lie right then and there, but he held them up, and in the blacklights…. they shone.

I began flailing with all my might, screaming for help from anyone who was near enough to hear. But he simply tightened his hold on me, pressing me up against him. "Shut up or I'll—" he began angrily, but before he could raise a single claw; he was hit with a flying force and skidded to the ground. He began wrestling with another guy who'd come quite literally out of nowhere, leaving me helplessly standing threr and watching the violent scene play out.

It was all happening so fast, I completely lost track of who was prevailing… until several minutes later, I heard a scream, and a sickly dark puddle began to form around the body of Joey, who lay motionless on the ground, claws from one hand impaled in his chest. My eyes widened in horror, and I felt my head spinning. Some poor girl was screaming… oh wait, that was me. And no sooner did I realize it before I felt a hand cover my mouth, and looked up in dread to see ol' Burnt Face.

Up close, his mask was even more disgustingly realistic, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut for a brief moment; just so overwhelmed and petrified. Then, I heard Meg's voice screaming, "Christine, where are you? Oh God Christine, please come out!" and I promptly felt myself being lifted off the ground. I tried to scream again, but Burnt Face was swifter than I, and though he was pulling us up into an opening in the ceiling with one hand, put his free hand over my mouth. I started pounding on this guy's toned arms, trying desperately to get him to drop me. I mean, hadn't he just _killed_ Joey Buchini? What was he planning to do with _me_? Oh God… he was probably some psycho-killer-rapist who snuck into haunted houses all dressed up so he could murder unsuspecting people for his human skin coat—

I continued to fight and struggle as zealously as I possibly could until I heard him say, as simply as the day, "_Christine…"_

There was a pleading in his voice—that beautiful, silken voice— begging me to stop fighting him. And just like that, I went limp as a ragdoll; once again completely slave to his voice.

I don't know how long he carried me up through the… I still don't know… ceilings? of the barn, but after a while, he put me down gently on the welcoming, wooden floor; and I scrambled up off the ground, frantically glancing around. I realized we were in some kind of tiny room, and as my eyes adjusted I saw a series of shutter-like slits in the walls. I warily stood up and approached them, daring myself to look outside. But as soon as I had, I wished that I hadn't; as I was met with the sight of the ground at least a hundred feet below, things that looked more like ants than people frantically rushing around and screaming. My knees buckled as I emitted a shuddering gasp, and I had just begun falling when _he _caught me. "_It's alright…you're safe with me," _he told me, assuring me with a wisp of a sound.

I looked up at him, feeling as vulnerable and shocked as a child. "Wha—who—wh—" I stuttered, unable to form full words in my alarm. He took my hand and knelt down next to me. "_Christine… please… do not be afraid of me,"_ he begged in whispered tones. That's when I snapped. "Don't be afraid of you? What do you expect? You just killed a guy in front of me!" I exclaimed, voice cracking pathetically as I scooted away from him.

He groaned, and even _that_ agonized sound was stunning. "_Please, I am not a murderer. I was just trying to get him away from you, when he accidentally stabbed himself. It wasn't my fault!"_ he voice quavered, and there was so much pain in his voice, I almost wanted to pat him on the back or something. But the weirdest thing about that was that I actually believed him. I forgot all about the fact that he had basically kidnapped me after "accidentally" murdering Buchini and now wanted to _comfort _him. Damn that voice!

But as soon as he'd finished his explanation, his gold eyes darkened, and his withered mask came alive with a scowl. Wait… a mask forming facial expressions? _Makeup._ I decided. _Really, really good makeup._

"_But he brought it on himself. How dare he try to kiss you when you did not welcome his attentions! How dare he try to threaten and blackmail you for his own pleasures!"_ he growled with pure malice in his tone. And that's when I recalled what he'd saved me from. "Oh yeah, I kind of forgot about that. Thanks for saving me, even if it ended… badly." I said, wincing slightly at the thought of Joey's crumpled body. They'll have found it by now, and by the sound of sirens wailing and people shouting, I knew that it wasn't going to be brushed aside as a Halloween prank gone bad.

He let a semblance of a smile play across his face, and he replied, "_You're more than welcome. I just couldn't stand it to see such a beautiful angel hurt and bullied by that devil of a boy."_

I blushed at his words. _Beautiful angel? Geez, heavy stuff._ I thought, shifting bashfully. I'd never been spoken to like that in my life. I glanced up to catch his eye, and with the light of the moon shining in through the small openings, I could look upon my rescuer fully. He looked older than me, maybe nineteen or twenty, and he was tall and skinny everywhere but his arms, which bulged beneath the sleeves of his worn black sweatshirt. It then hit me that he'd carried both of our weights as he pulled us up into the various ceilings of the barn, all _one handed_ while I was scrambling to get free. No wonder the dude was buff.

I then stood without a word and more closely examined the room around us, realizing with a gasp the only place we could be. "Are we… are we in the steeple?" I squeaked. He nodded slowly, and as soon as the new revelation hit me I sank back down to the ground, crawling to the middle of the tiny space and pulling my knees up to my chest. I'd always been terrified of heights, and I knew for a fact that the steeple of this gigantic barn was at least 8 stories off the ground. It also didn't help to calm my nerves that the building was about fifty years old, practically crumbling at the foundations. My breath quickened palpably, and he was beside me as soon as it did, watching me worriedly. "Why did you bring me here?" I whispered, fighting to keep my voice from shaking.

He was silent. I waited for a reasonable answer, for some sliver of sanity in all of this absurdity. When I heard none, I just broke. I don't know what it was about that one moment of silence, but something inside me just burst. I began to cry hysterically, all of the night's events torrenting out of me in one, feeble moment. His frown deepened in agony as he perceived my sobs, and he started whispering, "_No, please… oh, please… Christine! Please don't cry. How it aggrieves me to see your tears! Oh why, why? Why must I always make people cry?"_

My tears slowed at the sound of his pitiful moans, but I looked up at him firmly, eyes telling him that I was still waiting for an answer. He looked away, sighing. "_You have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard_."

My brow furrowed, and I actually laughed. _I _did? He thought my voice was beautiful when I obeyed his every whim with but a word? "_No, really. When I heard you singing to your friends, my heart almost stopped. And what was truly unbelievable was that you weren't even trying. You were just having fun, completely unaware of the positively angelic melody you were creating,"_ he acclaimed.

I just sat there, mouth agape. I'd always thought my voice was only okay, even though my friends always told me I was great and begged me to sing for them. I'd never really believed their admiration, for friends just supported friends, it was in the Girl Code. But now, here I was, sitting in the steeple of the Haunted Barn, being glorified by a dark stranger with good horror movie makeup. And I was completely speechless.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the muffled shouts of the frantic people below. I knew Meg and the other girls were probably among them, most likely hysterical, for all this horror in one night was more than they could possibly handle. As much as I wanted to go back to them, I felt bad just leaving the guy who'd potentially saved me from… I don't even know what Joey would have done if he hadn't been stopped. Maybe even my virginity. But every time I looked over at my strange companion, I had to look away, red-faced; for he was constantly, unblinkingly staring at me with this dreamy, far-out look in his eye. Why was he looking at me like that? "So… what's your name?" I asked awkwardly, trying to fill the void.

"_Erik_." he replied plainly.

"You… uh… live around here?" I questioned, desperate to spark some kind of conversation so we weren't just sitting here in this awful silence… leaving me alone with my unnerved thoughts. He laughed, the sound ringing out strong like an old church bell, and then replied, "_Closer than you'd think_."

What was with all these fortune cookie answers? I was trying to figure him out when I noticed he was sweating, and still attempting to fill the forthright silence, I said, "You know, you can take the makeup off if you want. I know from first-hand experience that it's horribly itchy and hot." I laughed, remembering my first dance recital, where the heat of the lighting absorbed into the makeup had practically knocked me out.

He grew rigid, and anything left of that tiny smile was now completely gone. He murmured something I didn't apprehend, so I asked, "What?"

"_It's not makeup."_ He uttered, closing his eyes. My hand flew to my mouth, and my eyes widened. That red skin… that melted expression… that was his real face?

No! It literally wasn't possible. I'd learned very little from science in my sixteen years, but one thing I knew for sure was if someone got a third degree burn that bad, and on their _face_ nonetheless, they would never survive. "Ok, I know you guys are determined to scare me tonight, but that's not funny." I told him, hoping my fearful expression was telling him that the joke was wearing thin.

"_I know it seems unbelievable, someone living having a face this repulsive, but I speak the truth. If you don't believe me…"_ he trailed off, looking at me curiously. _"Perhaps you'd like to see for yourself?" _He reached gingerly for my hand, but I jerked it away, gasping and shaking my head. I was, though I wished otherwise, ashamedly afraid of his dry, dead skin. As soon as I realized that it really was _real_, the thought of touching it nauseated me to no ends.

He looked hurt at first, but then he seemed to snap out of it. He took the bridge of his peeling nose in between his fingers and groaned. "_I'm sorry, I should not have asked such of you. No one should ever have to get anywhere near me, let alone touch me!"_

My heart broke a little, listening to his self-loathing dismay. From the heavy-laden repugnance in his tone, I could tell that not only was he used to people being appalled by him… but _he _was more than anyone else. He spoke the words of someone who'd never in their life been showed kindness… and I suddenly felt horribly guilty for being yet another scorning individual.

So, trying not to think about my fear, I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and reached out to stroke his cheek. Looking back, I still don't know why exactly I did it, but there was just something in him that seemed like he _needed_ this. His face was rough and felt like a strange mix of paper and tree bark, and the second I touched it, I knew it was real. My gag reflex kicked in as my fingers ran over something wet and oozing, but I forced it back, simply wiping the pus on my jacket.

When my hand made contact with his skin, he took a sharp inhalation of air, eyes widening in… wonder? as they stared up at me. "What happened to you?" I asked him sadly.

He looked away, quietly saying, "_It was eight years ago. A fire started up in my house, and the front door was blocked, so I couldn't get out. Everywhere I went in a desperate attempt to escape—windows, back doors, patios— there was something in the way; as if guards trapping me inside that hellishly hot prison. So, finally, I just gave up, and I began burning alive. At one point, the pain became so unbearable that I passed out, and the next thing I knew; I woke up in a hospital. I was soon informed that my parents were both dead, and to top it all off, my face and body would be permanently scarred, never to look the same again. I was told I was a miracle; no one was supposed to be able to survive a burn of this magnitude. For a while, I believed it too. But then each day, I'd go to school and be scorned, I go into town and be ostracized, and anywhere else I may happen to go I was beat up, made fun of, and avoided at all costs. Even the people who used to be my friends feared me, and all because I was now disgustingly disfigured. Humans are a shallow species Christine; I learned that after a very brutal few months. After a while, I just stopped going out. For years I went on like that, alone, only leaving my hideaway when it was absolutely necessary, until I heard about the opening of this place. All I had to do was show Mr. Gardener my face, and he was practically begging for me to join him. I made him a deal; I'd be the main attraction of his haunted house if he let me live there all other times of the year. He seemed greatly suspicious of me then, but a face as horrible as mine was just perfect for him to pass up. So, he agreed, and I've lived here ever since." _he finished, gesturing around.

When he'd finished his poignant tale, I abruptly recalled a newspaper article that I'd seen on our kitchen table eight years ago; "**Fire Destroys Local Home, No Survivors**". I shivered at the memory, not even wanting to know how he'd gotten out of the hospital "dead", and said, "That's terrible! I'm so sorry that all of that happened to you. Especially all the sneers you received because of your… injury." I exclaimed sadly.

All he did was smile sweetly at me. "_You are a very kind girl Christine. And so…"_ he dragged, stopping and turning away, looking embarrassed.

"So what?" I asked curiously.

"_So beautiful." _he replied after a moment. I looked down at the ground, face flushing once again. When I didn't answer, he decided to ignore my discomfort and just keep talking. "_I've actually thought so ever since I first saw you. Yes… I've seen you before tonight. It was right after my home was destroyed. I was wondering the streets, staying in the shadows close to the buildings. You came out of the ballet studio with a few of your friends, just laughing and talking and twirling, practicing whatever move you'd just learned. Even then, when you were so young, you possessed an almost unnatural amount of grace, and I couldn't take my eyes off you. Your little face… it was like the porcelain dolls I often saw in the windows of the toyshop; smooth, pale, and perfect. I was practically hypnotized, and even though I was eleven and still in the mindset that girls were "gross" I thought without question, 'Wow, that girl is pretty."_ He finished, eyes shining with adoration, wide and sad like a puppy's.

My eyes began to well up in spite of myself. He was just so sweet… his eyes so despaired. He thought _I_ was beautiful. Me, who could hardly keep up with my friends in dance, who was always a bit insecure when I looked in the mirror, who would never have the courage to sing in front of a crowd. What was so attractive about all that?

"_Will you sing for me?"_ he suddenly asked, obviously not noticing my apprehensive silence. I was still a little dumbfounded by his complimentary speech, but I managed to reply, "What would you like me to sing?"

He sighed, smiling affectionately. "_Anything. I'd listen to __rap__ if you were the one singing it."_

He said 'rap' like it was the mot repulsive thing he'd ever heard of, and I couldn't help but laugh. I thought for a moment, then began to sing one of my favorites. "Child of the wilderness, born into emptiness, learn to be lonely… learn to find your way in darkness…"

It was a song we'd sang in second grade for a benefit concert, and I'd always loved it, even if the lyrics were a bit depressing. I'd tried to sing it an octave higher than it was written, and the music instructor had yelled at me, saying that I needed to blend with the other kids. But I'd sang my version quietly to myself, for I thought I sounded better when the song was higher. When I got to the last part, "never dreamed, out in the world… there are arms to hold you!" I noticed those pleading golden eyes of his were glittering, and he joined in with me. "You've always known, your heart was on its own!" and I almost stopped singing. His singing voice was even more breathtakingly mesmerizing than his speaking voice! Every emotion relating to sadness or pain could be heard in his angelic tone. But then I heard something else as we sang together. Was that a glimmer of… hope? No, I must've imagined it, this song held no hope in it. I closed my eyes and just listened to the sound of our voices, blending perfectly in a unique, flawless harmony.

The song ended all too soon, and we just sat there in the now mocking silence, staring at each other in awe. "Well… that was…" I started, trying to find the right words.

"_A gift."_ He finished for me, smiling.

"I've never heard anything like your voice before. It was… hauntingly incredible." I told him shyly.

"_Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me coming from you." _

Suddenly, I heard a shout from below. "Christine!" Randy called frantically. I looked over to Erik, who was now looking panicked. I was about to call calmly out to Randy when I felt myself being swept off my feet. "Erik, what are you doing?" I hissed, puzzled.

"_They cannot find you. They cannot find __me__. we'll go to jail, they'll think we did it." _He babbled, eyes wild in fear.

"But we did do it!" I reminded him.

"_Not purposely. Christine, do you __want__ to be imprisoned?"_ he asked me desperately. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I mean, of course not, but I'm sure if we'd just stop to explain ourselves we'd be fine. I expressed this to him, but he just shook his head and pried a few of the old boards off the wall. "_I can't take that risk. I could never live with myself if you ended up behind bars."_

A few boards later, I heard Randy pounding on the hatch to get into the steeple. "Christine! Are you in there?" I tried to call out to him, but once again Erik put him hand over my mouth. "Erik, stop! Let me go!" I tried to say, but it mostly came out in muffled, "Mmmm!"'s. He ignored my pleas, giving the weakened wall a swift kick, sending splintered pieces of wood flying everywhere just as Randy burst through the hatch. "Chr—" he froze when he saw me in the arms of the dark stranger. I looked at him, now pretty panicked. Erik glanced back and forth between us, then narrowed his eyes and without warning leapt onto the roof. I screamed beneath his hand as we skidded to the edge of the barn's rooftop. His robust arms tightened around me, and I squirmed beneath his grasp.

We stopped right next to the edge, where the slant blessedly stopped, leaving a sort of flat ledge. I saw Randy peering out from the hole in the steeple, expression horrified. Erik stood, pulling me up with him, sweating in his panic, eyes glazed as he glanced around. "Let her go!" Randy practically roared from his perch.

Erik turned to me. "_We're going to have to jump Christine,"_ he explained quickly.

"Are you crazy? We have about as much of a chance surviving that as if we were to stay underwater for ten minutes without a breath!" I exclaimed, trying to back away from him.

"_Please Christine… come with me! Think of it, we could go to New York where they'd never find us… we could change our names, become stars! We could… we could be… together." _He whispered the last part.

Before I had the chance to say anything, Randy came tumbling down toward us. And when he rolled over and hit Erik's foot, Erik instantly growled and picked him up, shoving him towards the edge. "Erik, no!" I screamed, tears beginning to spill over my cheeks. He looked to me, golden eyes still bursting with distress. "The—the police are—coming." Randy grunted, trying to jerk away from Erik's iron clutch.

"_See? They'll take us away. They'll lock us up. Come away with me, please!"_ Erik begged me.

"Erik, I can't. I can't just drop everything and leave! Plus we'll look even more guilty if we try to run." I told him.

Suddenly, his head slowly turned to look at Randy, the ledge, then back to me; the look in his eye clouding over with eerie madness. "_Would you like me to prove to you that we'd survive this drop?" _he inquired coolly.

I went ballistic, knowing exactly what was on his mind. "No, no, no! Erik, don't! Please!" I cried, gasping for air from the sobs now racking my body.

"_Then come with me… be with me… love me." _he pleaded quietly.

"Christine, no! Don't listen to him!" Randy yelled, still fighting to get free. Erik simply slugged him in the shoulder. Hard. And what's more, he must've hit a pressure point or something, because Randy went completely limp. I looked at my childhood best friend, neighbor, and yes… even _crush_ at some points, and fresh, hot tears formed in my eyes. He just looked so defeated, so frightened.

"Erik, please, don't do this!" I whimpered. He just kept staring at me, waiting for my answer. "How… how can you ask me to love you when I just met you?" I asked, trying to stall him, take his mind off of slaying Randy.

"_You understand me… your voice lights my soul on fire… you just complete me, __I know it__."_ He replied. I looked away, eyes stinging. I couldn't believe what he was trying to make me do. Run away with him… even after he threatened to send my best friend over the edge, quite literally. What could be going on in his head? He had to be crazy. Shit yes! He'd been clinically insane all along; and I was just too stupid to remember that after he'd fed me that sob story…

And yet, through it all… I did understand him. Partially, at least. He'd been through so much… all he wanted was for someone to care for him. Did that make him so deranged?

But I just couldn't do it! Could I? Would I? I was still battling this out in my head when I heard a shout from behind me. "This is the police! Drop all weapons, release your captives, and step forward with your hands on your head!"

Complete and utter terror and burning pleading flashed in Erik's eyes as he looked over to me. I mouthed, "_Please,"_ and he squeezed his eyes shut; then dropped Randy to the ground, watching me in agony as I rushed to his side. I pulled him away from the edge, squeezing him tightly. "Are… are you ok?" he breathed.

"You're asking me?" I squeaked, bewildered.

"_Christine…"_ I heard Erik groan, and I looked up at him.

"We said, come forward! Now, or we'll be forced to—"

"_Don't leave—" _Erik started, but then an ear-splitting shot rang out, and Erik put his hand over the front of his left shoulder. Then he fell backwards. I must've screamed, though I don't even remember, because Randy put his body in front of me, blocking my vision from what I knew I would see.

The next few minutes went by in a blur; I was rushed down to the bottom of the barn, immediately bombarded with the worried bodies of my mother, Meg and the girls, Mrs. Giry, the paramedics, and a few reporters, shoving their microphones in my face. But I broke away from all of them, rushing over to where the police stood packed in a tight circle. I shoved my way through, and there was the crumpled body of my dark admirer. I went to kneel by his side, the officers' warnings muffled in my ears. Somehow, even after all that had happened, I was praying that he wasn't dead. I let out a small sigh of relief when his eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head to look at me. "_Christine…"_ he whispered, a small smile creeping onto his face. I just nodded, tears blurring my vision.

"_I'm going to die Christine. I'd rather die than be jailed, and after tonight I think I deserve to be dead."_ He coughed, and I winced at the small drops of blood that splattered across his hand in result.

"No Erik, you don't des—" I started, but he cut me off.

"_No, I do, and I know it. I was a monster tonight, and not just in appearance." _

Unable to find the right words, I just began to sing to him. "Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines, ding ding dong, ding ding dong." It was a lullaby my mother always sang to me, and I thought it applied. He closed his eyes as he listened, smiling even wider, and then he opened them again once I'd ceased. "_Such beauty. I think… I think I might love you, Christine."_ He told me with those golden, puppy dog eyes. I squeezed my own shut, knowing they'd positively deluge with tears if I didn't hold them back. And then I kissed him on the forehead.

He let out a small gasp, trembling as I pulled away, but then his face illuminated with a smile. Even in its ugliness, it shone; even in its twisted pain, it was happy.

I felt someone suddenly yanking me away from him, and I didn't fight it, for I knew I'd done all I could for him. As he watched me disappear into the crowd of officers surrounding him, he turned, glassy eyed, to stare at the sky, and he sang. "_Life can be… lived… life can be loved… a… lo…" _and before he could finish, shut his eyes for the final time, a smile still stretching across his distorted face.


	2. Chapter 2

**GARDENER HAUNTED BARN GETS MORE FRIGHTS THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR **

On the evening of October 27th, spectators coming from all over to experience the terrifying fun of The Gardener Family Haunted Barn got the terror… but not the fun. The night had started out like any other; screams piercing the air as people over sixteen entered the barn and were scared out of their wits. But one scream stood out more than any other—the scream of seventeen-year-old Joseph Buchini as he was impaled by his own "Freddy Krueger" claws.

"I never suspected [when he took the job] that it would end… that it was end like this!" his mother, Caroline Buchini, managed to tell us before bursting into tears.

But the terrifying events don't end there. As we wandered about the panicked scene, it was whispered that not only was Mr. Buchini dead, but that a girl had gone into the barn and not come out. People frantically wondered if she, a Miss Christine Dae, had been murdered or kidnapped by the same monster who'd killed Buchini.

"We swore she was right behind us when we walked out… but then we looked back and she wasn't there!" her friend Alexandra Lambert told us.

The police arrived at the scene and infiltrated the barn's winding perimeter, and we are told that they found Miss Dae, one of the Barn's ticket vendors, Randall Chadwick, and the offender himself, on the roof after apparently breaking out of the steeple. The man refused to release the captive teenagers and put his hands up, so the squadron was forced to shoot to save their young lives. As soon as he'd toppled over the edge of the roof, the officers rescued Chadwick and the hysterical Dae, rushing them down to the ground level to be checked for injury. But Dae was bewildered and delirious, and ran away from her own mother to rush to the broken side of her kidnapper. There she sang to and kissed the forehead of the mentally deranged man before being dragged away by a paramedic. She was checked into a hospital later that night, and refused to give a comment on what she experienced.

When we went to ask Charlie Gardener how he felt about all of these bizarre events, the story got even stranger. "I'm ashamed to admit that I knew him," Gardener stated, "he wasn't just some random creep who snuck into my barn. He's been a performer ever since this place opened."

"I had no idea he was mentally unstable," he continued when we pressed for more information, "he came to me five years back when I first opened the place and asked to be hired. So I did… and all because of that face."

He then elaborated, telling us that the man, Erik Destler, had been horribly scarred in a fire that had left him homeless and penniless with no relatives to go to.

"He was desperate and he was broke; so I let him stick around under the condition that he preform with that god-awful face of his every year."

When we went to view the corpse ourselves, we decided that it was best not to print pictures; for it was not for the faint-hearted. All we can say is that we'll never forget it, and that we're sure our little town will always remember with a shudder the strange affair that took place on that fatal night.

But we ask that you sleep easily tonight; for this phantom-like psychotic—a man who went by Erik—is dead.

I threw down the article in anger. Damn those awful reporters, making me sound like the sighing victim while Erik was some evil psychopath! That was _not _how it had happened; Joey's death had _not _been his fault!

I'd found the article in the trash when my mom asked me to take it out; it was obvious she hadn't wanted to upset me further than I'd already been these past few weeks.

The doctors had been really worried about me, convinced my ramblings about Erik were signs of something called Stockholm Syndrome. Well maybe I did have it; maybe I was crazy for believing he'd been more than that. But even so, I'd simply scream at them that they hadn't been there; they didn't know what he'd been through!

As a result, I'd been in the hospital for about a week and a half.

As soon as I realized why they weren't letting me go, I'd played along and been a good girl… even making up stories about how terrified I'd been and how I'd never forget that fear. I hated myself for it, but as soon as I had I was home free.

Randy was the most concerned of everyone, coming by my house every single day with methods of cheering me up. He's so wonderful; sometimes I think he's the only thing that keeps me sane. And as soon as I was up and about again, he asked me out. I'm lucky to have a boyfriend as amazing as him, but it also breaks my heart to know that he's completely oblivious to the fact that I will never forget the other man who saw me that way.

As if reading my thoughts, Randy walked in at that exact moment. "Chris?" he called with a smile, and I reached out and briskly shoved the article off the table. His eyes fell upon it anyway, then looked back up at me in confusion. "What's that?" he asked. I smiled casually, picking it up and tossing it in the trash. "Nothing. What movie are we seeing, again?"

But it wasn't nothing. It was the death notice of a man who had loved music and just wanted to _be_ loved. The morbid proclamation of Erik Destler's tragic story; the story of a prodigy who might have been revered and adored by the world had he not had the face of a monster.

But Randy didn't seem to notice the way I was silently screaming. Or maybe he just didn't want to. "They're showing a horror movie marathon tonight. The tickets were super hard to get." He chuckled naively.

I walked over and took his hands. "That sounds perfect. You want to get the car warmed up, and I'll be out in a minute?" I requested with a gentle smile. He stared at me uncertainly for a moment, eyes even darting over to rest on the trashcan once, but then he shot a half smile back and disappeared from the room. And with that, I was alone again.

I went and gingerly fished the article out of the trash, eyes falling almost immediately upon that simple sentence: "_…a man who went by Erik—is dead." _

"…_and after tonight I deserve to be dead." _I could still hear him whispering faintly in my mind.

"No… you were just _confused_…" I muttered to no one but myself. I took one last look at the newspaper in my hands, then turned and tossed it into the fireplace; where for a moment I could nearly see his burning, golden eyes dancing among the flames. No… I don't think I'll ever forget the music or the monster or, most importantly, the man.

**A/N:**** And there ya have it. Hope you liked this new chapter, because unless I get bored **_**next **_**Halloween this will be the last one. XD Our poor, unhappy Erik… **


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